“He did, Gracious Gentlemen. Kuklinovski shut me with himself and some men in an empty little barn. There he had me tied to a beam with ropes, then he began to torture me and to burn my sides with fire.” “By the living God!” “While doing this he was called away to Miller; when he was gone three nobles came, certain Kyemliches, his soldiers, who had served with me previously. They killed the guards, and unbound me from the beam—” “And you fled! Now I understand,” said the king. “No, your Royal Grace. We waited for the return of Kuklinovski. Then I gave command to tie him to that same beam, and I burned him better with fire.” When he had said this, Kmita, roused by remembrance, became red again, and his eyes gleamed like those of a wolf. But the king, who passed easily from grief to joy, from seriousness to sport, began to strike the table with his hand, and exclaim with laughter,— “That was good for him! that was good for him! Such a traitor deserved nothing better!” “I left him alive,” continued Kmita, “but he must have perished from cold before morning.” “That’s a deed; he does not give away his own. We need more of such!” cried the king, now completely delighted. “Did you come hither with those soldiers? What are their names?” “They are Kyemlich, a father and two sons.” “My mother is from the house of Kyemlich,” said Father Vydjga. “It is evident that there are great and small Kyemliches,” answered Kmita, smiling; “these are not only small persons, but robbers; they are fierce soldiers, however, and faithful to me.” Meanwhile the chancellor, who had been whispering for a time in the ear of the Archbishop of Gnyezno, said at last,— “Many come here who for their own praise or for an expected reward are glad to raise dust. They bring false and disturbing news, and are frequently sent by the enemy.” This remark chilled all present. Kmita’s face became purple. “I do not know the office of your grace,” said he, “which, I think, must be considerable, therefore I do not wish to offend you; but there is no office, as I think, which would empower any one to give the lie to a noble, without reason.” “Man! you are speaking to the grand chancellor of the kingdom,” said Lugovski. “Whoso gives me the lie, even if he is chancellor, I answer him, it is easier to give the lie than to give your life, it is easier to seal with wax than with blood!” Pan Korytsinski was not angry; he only said: “I do not give you the lie, Cavalier; but if what you say is true, you must have a burned side.” “Come to another place, your great mightiness, to another room, and I will show it to you!” roared Kmita. “It is not needful,” said the king; “I believe you without that.” “It cannot be, your Royal Grace,” exclaimed Pan Andrei; “I wish it myself, I beg it as a favor, so that here no one, even though I know not how worthy, should make me an exaggerator. My torment would be an ill reward; I wish belief.” “I believe you,” answered the king.